


Shattered Lives

by telperion_15



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Angst, Drama, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-20
Updated: 2010-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 04:59:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don tries to rebuild his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered Lives

For a split second Don almost convinced himself that it was Charlie he was seeing. That, against all the odds, his brother had found some way to be here when Don took his first steps into the Real World for over two years.

But then the person in question turned towards him, and the resemblance suddenly fell apart. This wasn’t Charlie – in fact, there were only the vaguest of similarities between his brother and this man. Curly hair and similar clothing were the beginning and end of it.

  


The man beckoned to him, and Don moved forward to sign the last of the forms that would finally get him out of this place. That done, he was handed the packet containing the possessions that had been confiscated when he’d first arrived (had he really brought so little?).

  


“That’s everything, Mr. Eppes. You’re free to go.”

  


And just like that he had his liberty back. He could leave. And it was at that moment that he suddenly realised he didn’t know where he was going. He purposely hadn’t told Megan that he was being released today, not wanting to face the inevitable kindness edged with concern, and possibly pity.

  


But if Megan wasn’t here, then neither was anyone else. He didn’t know what to do. He was scared.

  


“Donny.”

  


The voice was at once familiar and foreign to him, and Don couldn’t prevent his jaw from dropping slightly as he turned to face his father.

  


“Dad?”

  


“Yes, it’s me.”

  


“But…what…?”

  


“I’ve come to take you home.”

  


*   *   *   *   *

  


The car journey was silent, and seemed to stretch into an eternity. Don considered a hundred different questions and conversation openers, but discarded them all. He had no idea what to say to the father he hadn’t seen for two-and-a-half years. The father who had disowned him when he’d found out what his elder son had done. He was still struggling to believe that his Dad was here at all. There didn’t seem to be anything to say that wouldn’t sound stupid, meaningless, or pathetic.

  


Eventually, however, they arrived home. And it was home. Despite everything that had happened, Alan still hadn’t moved out of the family house. It seemed that the bad memories weren’t quite enough to drive him away from the good ones.

  


A mixture of these memories assailed Don as he stepped through the front door. Some he didn’t want. Some he _shouldn’t_ want, although these were the strongest, and he had to fight not to let his emotions cross his face. More than almost anything he wanted to repair his relationship with his father. But if Dad caught him remembering what he was remembering now…well, that wouldn’t be the greatest start.

  


“Don?”

  


Don started slightly.

  


“What are you thinking about?”

  


“Just that it’s nice to be home.”

  


Alan’s eyes narrowed at that, but apparently he couldn’t find anything wrong with the statement, and he let it drop.

  


“You want a beer or something?”

  


“Something,” answered Don. “After going without for over two years, I don’t think beer would be the best idea right now.”

  


“I’ll get you some juice,” said Alan, disappearing into the kitchen.

  


Don took the opportunity to have a quick look around the living room. Everything seemed to be just as he remembered it. Sure, there was the odd piece of new furniture, some unfamiliar fixtures, but it still looked like home. Don lifted a picture showing his mother and father off a shelf. For the thousandth – the millionth – time, he wondered what his mother would say to him if she were here now.

  


Setting the picture down again, his eyes slid up to the next shelf. Another picture of his mother, alongside a beautiful glass vase his parents had brought back from a trip to Mexico, years ago. Another shelf – another picture of his parents. And another, this one of his father standing in front of his first completed planning project.

  


Suddenly, the obvious hit him. There were no pictures of…

  


“Here you go.”

  


Alan thrust a glass of juice at him, and then motioned for him to sit down. An awkward silence fell, and Don tried to sort out which question to ask from all the ones that were whirling around his head.

  


“How did you know I was getting out today?” he said eventually, settling for the one that seemed least likely to cause pain.

  


“We may not have seen each other in a while, but I’m still your father. Next of kin, and all that. I got a letter.”

  


“Oh.”

  


“Megan was hurt that you didn’t tell her. She wanted to come, but I told her this was a family thing.”

  


A bitter laugh escaped Don. He couldn’t help it. Family. What a joke.

  


The irony apparently wasn’t lost on his father either, although he didn’t seem to find it as funny as Don did.

  


“Yes, family,” he said firmly. “Because, despite everything, that’s what we are.”

  


“So why haven’t you been to see me? At all?”

  


“I couldn’t. It was too hard. I didn’t understand – I still don’t. And I blamed you.”

  


“Which you still do.”

  


A pause. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry, Donny, but I still blame you.”

  


“And what about Charlie?”

  


“He’s not here.”

  


“Yes, I can see that. I noticed that there aren’t any pictures – of either of us – left in this house. What am I doing here, Dad? If you still blame _me_, why am _I_ here, and not Charlie? Or did you cut him out of your life too?”

  


“Don’t you try coming the moral compass with me, my boy!” said Alan angrily. “You haven’t got the right any more. I brought you home because I hoped that there might be something of our family left to salvage.”

  


“How can there be? When you can’t even look at me without labelling me as guilty, and no one will even let Charlie and I be in the same room. Do you know what that means, Dad? There’s a good chance I’ll never see my brother again!”

  


“And I thank god for that fact every day!”

  


The words shocked them both into silence. Alan was shaking, and Don felt like he was about to throw up. Then his father spoke again.

  


“Why, Don? Why?”

  


Ah. The sixty-four thousand dollar question.

  


“I don’t have an answer for you, Dad.”

  


“You don’t have an answer? What you did has torn this family apart, and you’re telling me you don’t have an answer for me?!”

  


“Not one that you’d want to hear, anyway,” said Don recklessly, wondering on some fatalistic level if this would provoke his father into hitting him.

  


And it was true. The only answer he had was the one his father wouldn’t accept. The one that everybody said wasn’t good enough. The one that people thought disgusting and twisted, a perversion of the natural order of things.

  


It was the answer that he’d learned not to give over the past two years. He had tried it once, at the very beginning, and been gently but firmly told that he shouldn’t be thinking things like that about his brother. And it was at that moment he’d realised that for the next two years he was going to have to give the performance of his life to even have a chance of getting his life back at the end of them.

  


Apparently his act had been Oscar-winning. He’d constructed the persona of the ‘mentally disturbed penitent willing to be reformed’ so well that his counsellor had practically thrown a party for him on the day he’d informed him he was being released.

  


And now he might have destroyed everything with eight thoughtlessly spoken words. His Dad knew what the answer Don wouldn’t give was. Despite his act, Don had never forgotten the truth. He believed in his answer with every fibre of his being. But would his father use it to send him back to where he’d come from?

  


It seemed not. No punches were thrown, and no phone calls were made. Instead, his father just gave him one sadly disappointed look, and then disappeared upstairs, walking like he’d aged ten years in ten minutes.

  


*   *   *   *   *

  


The next day, Megan turned up.

  


“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting out yesterday?”

  


“I don’t really know,” replied Don honestly. “But didn’t my Dad tell you? You could have come anyway.”

  


“Well, funnily enough, being a criminal profiler has given me some insight into the human psyche,” said Megan sarcastically. “I figured that if you wanted me there you would have told me yourself.” Then her tone softened. “But I’m guessing from the fact that you’re here, and not in some crappy hotel room, that your Dad _did_ turn up. How are things between you two?”

  


Don grimaced. He really didn’t want to get into that, especially not with Megan. “Not good,” he said shortly, hoping she’d take the hint.

  


She did. That was the good thing about Megan. Despite her background in psychology, she’d never once over the past couple of years tried to push him to talk about anything. They both knew that Don was getting more than enough opportunities for that kind of thing from the state-assigned counsellors.

  


She’d been the only person to visit him while he’d been in the institute. The only person from his former life who’d taken the time to come and see him. She’d kept him up to date on everything and everyone from his old life. It was from her that he’d heard that David had stepped up to take over his role as team leader at the FBI. Colby and Megan had remained on the team with him, and they’d been joined by Liz as a fourth member.

  


It was Megan who had told him that his father’s blossoming relationship with Millie had been another casualty of the strife he had caused. Don was genuinely sorry about that – Millie had been good for his father. And from what Megan had said, it was him and not her who had ended it. He had felt like she shouldn’t have to deal with his family problems, even though she had shown all the signs of wanting to help Alan through those problems, not abandon him in the middle of them.

  


And it was from Megan that he learned that Charlie had left the family home and moved across the country to the east coast. Because of what had happened he could no longer get a position at a university, nor could he work for the law enforcement agencies any more, so he was consulting for the commercial sector – software companies, engineering firms, that kind of thing. They didn’t care about Charlie’s chequered history, so long as his math gave them an edge over their competitors.

  


Don felt an ache every time he thought of Charlie’s ruined career. And after he had tried so hard to let all the blame fall on himself as well. Even when Charlie was shouting as loudly as he could that he was just as much at fault, Don had stuck rigidly to his story – it was all his fault and Charlie was the unwitting victim. He had been determined to prevent Charlie being punished, not matter what the cost to himself.

  


And he had succeeded – partially. Charlie had remained free while he had been locked up. But his brother’s life would never be the same again. He couldn’t teach, he couldn’t publish, and he would never gain any more of the recognition that he deserved. His genius was being frittered away catering to the petty rivalries of the big corporations.

  


It was from Larry that Megan got all her news of Charlie. The pair had finally got married about a year ago, much to everyone’s (including Don’s) delight. But Larry hadn’t felt able to abandon Charlie, much as Megan hadn’t been able to abandon Don, and so he often visited Charlie in New York, spending a month or more at a time there. Don was grateful that Charlie still had at least one familiar face in his life, even as he knew that Larry’s frequent absences must put a strain on his and Megan’s relationship.

  


But Megan never spoke of that, and Don didn’t feel like he had the right to bring it up. So his gratitude remained unspoken.

  


Don still wasn’t really clear on why Megan had chosen to stick by him. Even with all her psychological knowledge, she had made it clear that she didn’t understand what Don had done. But she had also made it clear that she didn’t blame him either. It was a strange situation, and one that Don was reluctant to delve into too deeply, lest he inadvertently do or say something that would cause his only ally to disappear.

  


Of the other people in his life…well, they had one and all made it perfectly clear that they _did_ blame him, and wanted nothing further to do with him. The one and only time he had seen David, Colby, and Liz after everything had come out had not been a pleasant one. He had ventured into the office to clean out his desk, and had run into all of them at once. David and Colby had looked at him with deep disgust, but had at least kept silent. Liz, however, had let him have it with both barrels, right there in front of everybody, and had finished off by slapping him and walking out. None of them had ever contacted him again.

  


“So, what are you going to do now?” Megan asked, recalling Don to himself.

  


“I have no idea,” he sighed. “My career is shot, my personal life is shot, and I’ve pretty much destroyed my family.” He smiled bitterly. “I guess the only way from here is up, right?”

  


Megan placed a hand on his, a mute gesture of comfort. But she didn’t say anything, and Don knew that, for once, it was because there was nothing she could say.

  


*   *   *   *   *

  


Over the next couple of weeks, life settled down into some kind of rhythm. Don and Alan attempted to act normally around each other, and to a certain extent succeeded. They both skirted carefully around the more volatile topics of conversation, limiting their discussions to baseball, Alan’s planning firm, the activities of the neighbours, and the state of the back-yard. But there was a veneer of formality to all their actions that made Don yearn even more for the days before he had gone away. 

  


Megan visited every couple of days to see how he was doing and, after obtaining Don’s permission, brought Larry along with her. It was weird, but in Larry, Don thought he might finally have found someone without any judgement at all for what he had done. After all, the physics professor had remained in close contact with Charlie, which Don was sure he wouldn’t have done if he harboured any true misgivings about what had gone on between them.

  


But, despite this, having Larry around in some ways made things harder. Here was someone who knew everything about Charlie’s current life – what he was doing, what he was thinking, what he was feeling. And yet Don couldn’t ask him about any of it. With what Don considered to be uncanny instincts, Alan contrived to be present every time Larry visited, effectively preventing Don from bringing up the topic closest to his heart.

  


And besides, Don wasn’t sure he felt comfortable with the thought of discussing Charlie with Larry, in any case. He felt like it would be wrong to put Larry on the spot in such a way – it wasn’t fair to put Larry in the middle of everything by demanding information about Charlie. Don would have to be content with the snippets he had gained from Megan.

  


But then something happened.

  


It was a hot Saturday afternoon. Don had been helping his father rip out a bunch of shrubbery from back-yard. It had been a useful activity for both of them – they could work together on something without actually having to talk to each other except about garden tools and the mess the plants had got into.

  


They had both worked at it until they were hot, dirty, and sweaty, and Don had finally called a break and come inside to fetch a couple of beers.

  


As he leaned against the counter, holding the cold beer bottle against his forehead prior to opening it, the phone rang. Without thinking, Don scooped it up and pressed the ‘answer’ button.

  


“Eppes household.”

  


Silence.

  


“Hello?”

  


“Don?”

  


“Charlie…?”

  


And then Alan was there, snatching the phone away from him and taking it out on to the back porch. As his father paced in front of the open kitchen window, Don heard snatches of the conversation.

  


“Charlie, how are you? You haven’t phoned for a while…what?…yes, okay, it was…what do you mean, why didn’t I tell you? You know why…don’t take that attitude with me…Charlie? Charlie?”

  


Looking disgusted, Alan hung up the now silent phone. Suddenly, Don realised he couldn’t handle what would be the inevitable argument with his father. He hadn’t seen or heard from Charlie in over two years, and suddenly his brother had been right there, on the other end of the phone. He had only spoken one word, but with that one word Don’s ache for Charlie had returned in full force. And right now he didn’t think he was capable of hiding that from his father. He needed to get away.

  


Before Alan had returned to the kitchen, Don had escaped through the front door.

  


*   *   *   *   *

  


After the phone call, Don felt like his slowly healing relationship with his father had returned to square one. It was as if Alan had been reminded all over again of what had happened between his two sons, and Don had to start earning forgiveness from scratch once more.

  


There was a small part of him that was almost tempted not to bother. To instead just forget the whole thing, move away from his father, and try and start afresh. After all, Alan would never be able to forget entirely what had happened – it would taint their relationship forever.

  


But he couldn’t do it. He had already lost his mother and his brother – he couldn’t lose his father too. He had to try, at least, no matter how hard it might be.

  


However, at this moment there was nothing he _could_ do. The day after Charlie had called, Alan had announced to his eldest son that he was going on a two-week golfing tour with one of his buddies. He needed to get away, to clear his head, he said – it would be good for them to have some time apart to cool down.

  


Don felt like pointing out that they had already had more than two years apart, but he didn’t. He understood his father’s need for space. And truthfully, Don felt like he could use some time to adjust too. He hadn’t really had any time to get used to the outside world again on his own terms – Alan, or Megan, or Larry were always around. He would appreciate the time to sort out his head a little.

  


Although he hoped he could persuade Megan and Larry to drop round a few times. He didn’t want to spend all his time alone – that way lay too much opportunity for thinking about things he shouldn’t be thinking about – at least, according to his counsellor, his father, and his friends. Those he had left.

  


So when there was a knock on the door, two days after his father had gone, Don just assumed that Megan had turned up unannounced for a chat. He hurried to the door and flung it open. It was dark outside, more so thanks to the broken porch-lamp, and therefore Don didn’t immediately recognise just who was standing on the stoop.

  


“Well? Can I come in?”

  


“Charlie…” Don uttered his brother’s name as if it were a prayer…or perhaps a curse.

  


“So? Can I come in or not?”

  


The desire to drag Charlie into his arms warred with the instinct to slam the door in his face. Don did neither. Instead he stepped back slightly, allowing Charlie access.

  


“Of course. Do you want a beer or something?”

  


“Don’t, Don.”

  


“Don’t what?”

  


“Don’t pretend like everything’s normal!”

  


Don tried desperately to hold on to some composure. “What do you want me to do, Charlie? Everything has to be normal. Because if it isn’t…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

  


Charlie did it for him. “Because if it isn’t you might have to admit that you still feel something,” he said savagely. “I’ve spent two years wondering what kind of person was going to come out of that place, and now I know. They really have brainwashed you, haven’t they?” he finished disgustedly.

  


He stalked off towards the kitchen. Don didn’t follow. He was still trying to get his head around Charlie’s appearance. Over two years apart, and now his brother was actually here, in this house. Don ached with the need to touch Charlie, to hold him, to kiss him. But he couldn’t. He almost wished Charlie had never come.

  


Don still hadn’t put his thoughts in order when Charlie returned from the kitchen. He was carrying only one beer – a spiteful little act that should have made Don angry, but didn’t. Instead he just felt unbelievably tired. Dropping on to the couch, he buried his head in his hands. He felt the cushions dip as Charlie sat down beside him.

  


“Don? Are you alright?”

  


He laughed – a hollow and bitter sound. How could Charlie not know the answer to that question?

  


Don felt a hand settle on his shoulder. He flinched, and the hand was withdrawn as if it had been burnt, accompanied by an audible gasp. Lifting his head, he saw Charlie looking at him in horror.

  


“Sorry,” he muttered.

  


Charlie didn’t look convinced.

  


“I am,” Don assured him. “I haven’t been brainwashed – I promise you. It’s just…I can’t let myself go there again. What’s the point? We can never again have what we had before, so why should I torture myself, or allow myself to be tempted?”

  


“Don’t you love me any more?” The words came out as a whisper, and carried a world of heartbreak.

  


“Of course I do!” responded Don, knowing that he could never lie to Charlie about that. “But it doesn’t make any difference,” he continued, less vehemently. “Our family has already been torn apart once thanks to me, and I won’t allow it to happen again.”

  


“Will you stop doing that!” Charlie said angrily.

  


“Doing what?” Don asked, confused.

  


“Laying all the blame on your own shoulders. I got why you were doing it when we were being investigated. I hated it, but I understood it. But why are you doing it now? Surely you don’t actually believe that it was all your fault? You don’t really think that you dragged me into something I didn’t want to do, do you? Because, big brother, although you may not have noticed, I’m an adult now, and perfectly capable of making my own decisions. To coin a phrase, it takes two to tango.”

  


Don blinked. He _had_ almost made himself believe that he was the one to blame. Over two years of protecting Charlie from cops and counsellors had turned his protestations of Charlie’s innocence into something like the truth in his own mind.

  


“But it doesn’t really make any difference,” he concluded wearily. “Dad thinks it was my fault – he thinks _I’m_ responsible for breaking up our family. You must have noticed that he’s kept in contact with you, while he never even bothered to visit me. In his eyes it _will_ be my fault if we do something to jeopardise this family, and I won’t put him through that.”

  


“And what about what you’ll put me through?” asked Charlie quietly. “You seem to think that if we don’t pick up what we had before, we can all go back to being one big, happy family. You must know that’s never going to happen. For a start, Dad will probably never let us be in the same house again. And even if that wasn’t a factor, neither of us will ever be able to forget what we feel – what we had. We’re never going to be able to act like normal brothers again. You might save Dad some heartache by cutting me off, but you’ll break _my_ heart in the process. Is that what you want?”

  


“God, Charlie, of course it isn’t!” Don snapped. “Do you think I want things to be this way? Do you think you’re the only one who’ll have a broken heart? But we can’t go back. We _can’t_. Everybody knows now – we wouldn’t be able to hide it. And even if we ran away, we still wouldn’t be safe. Someone would find us – someone always does. And Dad would have lost two sons instead of only one.”

  


“So your solution is to pretend like nothing ever happened, and keep away from me for the rest of your life?”

  


Charlie’s words twisted like a knife in Don’s heart, but still he had to be honest. “I don’t really see that there’s anything else we can do,” he said bluntly. “This is just the way it has to be.”

  


Charlie looked like he had run out of arguments, and Don half-hoped that he would just get up and leave. It was getting harder and harder for him to restrain himself from touching Charlie – despite his words, his body was just crying out for him to take Charlie in his arms and tell him that everything was going to be alright. But he couldn’t, and it wasn’t, and against all his feelings he found himself wishing that Charlie would just go, before Don did something stupid.

  


But Charlie didn’t leave, and he didn’t speak. Instead he just looked at Don for a few moments while Don struggled to hide all the emotions that were raging inside him.

  


Then, without warning, Charlie raised a hand and caressed Don’s face. Don couldn’t help himself – he leaned into Charlie’s touch like a plant leaning towards the light. He had no control – it was instinctive.

  


“Don, please don’t do this to us,” Charlie pleaded quietly. “I know you don’t want to – it’ll shatter us both.”

  


“Charlie, I…”

  


But Don was cut off as Charlie leaned forward and kissed him.

  


Despite the length of time they had been apart, Don had never forgotten what it was like to kiss Charlie. It was desire, and love, and home all rolled into one. And now, with Charlie’s lips on his, Don could almost believe that they would find a way to make things work. It would be so easy just to let go and take what he had missed and wanted for so long.

  


For a second he teetered on the brink, poised between love and duty. But it was no good. Don had spent his whole life doing his duty, and duty wasn’t going to let him go now.

  


Suppressing a sigh of longing, he withdrew from Charlie, scooting back slightly along the couch. Charlie looked shocked, as if he had been so certain his tactic would work he couldn’t understand how it hadn’t.

  


Don knew what he had to do. He had act before things went any further. He spoke the five hardest words he had ever uttered.

  


“I think you should leave.”

  


“You’re really doing this, aren’t you?” Charlie said, defeated.

  


“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Charlie.”

  


“I know you are,” replied Charlie. “So am I.”

  


“Good-bye, Charlie.”

  


“Good-bye, Don.”

  


Don fixed his eyes on the floor until he heard the front door click shut. Maybe this wouldn’t have to be the last time he ever saw Charlie. Maybe, in time, they _could_ become brothers again, and see each other on birthdays and holidays. Maybe their father would be able to forgive them both and they could have something resembling a family again.

  


But even if all those things came to pass, Don knew he would spend the rest of his life wondering if he had done the right thing.


End file.
